


Sleepless nights

by Planetargo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brotherly Love, Coffee, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Denial, Emotionally Repressed, Eventual Smut, Gay, Love, M/M, PTSD, Sam Winchester - Freeform, Slow Burn, Spooning, Supernatural - Freeform, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Planetargo/pseuds/Planetargo
Summary: Sam's nightmares have only progressed since Jessica's death and the passing of their father. The guilt he feels for not being there for her is mentally and physically killing him. Dean won't let this go on any longer.





	1. Coffee please.

Dean pov

I could hear him. His flinching, uncertain movements, and ragged breathing. It was like he was suffocating. Poor Sammy, I thought to myself. I tend to think that a lot. I pity him even though I know I shouldn't. Ever since that day, that horrible day for him, he can't sleep without waking up covered in fear drawn sweat. Some nights are louder than others, and some nights I can hear him crying. And sometimes I almost feel as if it was my fault. If only I hadn't convinced him to come out on that hunt with me, if only I had listened to him when he said no.  
His body will shake and Jerk, and I just lay there and watch.  I know I'm a terrible person, letting my little brother sleep his horrid nights away while I observe. I should do something, fix this. But how? I'm nothing. I can't bring Jessica back from the dead. I can't take away those painful memories. In my lifeless position I decided that this pondering was useless, so I gave Sam one last look before I turned over and shut my eyes to continue my sleep.

***

  The morning was cold. It was dry, to the point where it burns to breath the crisp air. The room was almost silent except for the rattle of the air conditioning. My first instinct was to grab my shirt that was laying near the end of the bed. I put it on, trying to gain some of my warmth back. The shirt smelled a little and there was a small blood stain near the hem, but I honestly don't give a fuck. My second instinct was to get some caffeine in my system. I don't like to call myself addicted, I mean it wasn't like I was smoking cigarettes. All I knew was that if I skipped a daily does of my coffee, it was physically impossible for me to get through the day.  
There was another nagging presence that just wouldn't leave me alone.  
Ah, yes Sammy.  
I turned around to spot my younger brother laying in his bed on his side with his back facing me. I could tell he wasn't asleep, his breathing was to fast and I could see his foot moving underneath the blanket.  
The coffee rumbled in the background, and I know he could smell it.  
I walked over to his bed and gave him a little slap on the shoulder.  
"Hey, you awake?" I already knew the answer but I didn't want it to be awkward if he knew I was silently watching him. He hummed in response with a little twitch of his hand that was painfully laying underneath him.  
"You need to get ready. We gotta to make it in to Jackson hole by tonight, so wake the hell up." I said.  Should I be a little more gentle with him? I've been know for being tough on people, especially Sam. He's my kid brother and I need him just as much as he needs me. I don't wanna have any risk of him growing weak because of me acting soft. We rely on each other to survive, day in and day out.

***

  At this point now the coffee was ready, in fact it might even be a little burnt, but who the fucked cares.  
Sammy and I bring our own mugs whenever we go on a hunt. We take no shit from those flimsy cups that they usually have in the lobby of whatever crappy, hole in the wall motel were staying at.  
My mug is a plain white one that has large font saying "Blow me, I'm hot".  
Yeah it's kinda stupid, but it holds hot liquid, and that's all I asked for.  
Sam's is a hand made cup that we got from some authentic store on the side of the road. His previous one broke because of, well, because of me technically. It's covered in a blue glaze that is shiny in light. It was kinda girly, but I don't say anything about it.  
I grabbed the coffee pot and began to pour it in to my mug. The steam raised in my face, leaving a warm film on my skin, which really contrasted to the icy feel of the room.  
I sipped the dark liquid, wincing at the hot temperature on my tongue. When I turned around, Sammy was sitting off the side of his bed, hair going 360, and dark bags under his eyes. He was kinda an eyesore.  
I just sat there drinking my coffee while staring my brother. I need to quit this shit out. But it's hard to see someone you love and care about suffer. For Sammy it's more than suffering, it's like a death sentence. I sat my mug down on the table and walked over to him, feeling the bed dip as another weight was added to it. He wouldn't look at me, not even glance. His body looked exhausted and limp. "Sam what's wrong?" I asked, trying to be gentle this time. He just shook his head, brown bangs swaying back and forth. There was this little part of me that wanted to hug him and tell him that everything was going to be alright, but I didn't know if that was true. I let out a sigh of defeat. I opened my mouth, planing to say something, but I thought I better not. I sat there for a minute, contemplating on what I should do. Instead I decided I'll let him be.  
I pat him on the shoulder, letting my hand linger on his warm skin just for a while longer.  
"Well, do ya need anything." I asked just to be nice. His body stood still before he slowly started to raise his head. Tired hazel eyes meeting with mine. God that face, it was- angelic. A rough voice spoke. It was gravelly and raw.  
"Coffee please." He asked. If there is one thing I can do for Sam, it's make him a simple cup of coffee.


	2. Birthmark

We both fumbled out of the car while slamming the door on Baby, sluggishly walking to the hotel door. My hands tryed to put the key in the slot, but they wouldn't stop their vigorous shaking. Dirt was caked under my fingernails, and i felt disgusting. It seemed like minutes before Sam finally yanked the keys out from my hands with a harsh jerk, and put them in the lock himself.

It was like a breath of fresh air walking in to our room. A new envoirment. It was safe, quiet, and most importantly it was calm. A calm place for my mind to rest and settle. Well, at least my mind could, but Sam on the other hand- his mind might as well be a broken record. It never stops, and it plays the same song over and over and over again until he finally breaks.  
I had a feeling that there's a possibility he might actually sleep, I mean we were both exushasted from today's work, so maybe he could get through tonight.

Almost simultaneously, we both plopped down on the beds. The mattress both squeaked and cried from the rusty metal rubbing together. It felt as though my body had let out all of its toxins, the breath that I didn't know I was holding.   
This job will be the end of me. The one thing that will break me down until I'm nothing but dead. I kill and save and the only thing I get out of it is sorrow and pain. I've almost lost my motivation to get up in the morning. But as dad always said, 'Somebody's gotta do it'.  I never understood that. Why us? Why must we sacrifice everything for this ungrateful world. And poor Sammy, again using that word. All he ever want was a life. A real life. And he will never get that. Not even if I gave everything I had could I bring him the life he always wanted. The life he always deserved. These thoughts have become a trend now. A cycle that happens almost every night after a hunt. I sit and stare while thinking about every thing that I can't fix. It's makes me feel sick. I can't stand to look at myself anymore. All I see is the life of my father. Where is me? Where is Dean Winchester? I scream those words in my head. I ask my self that almost constantly, and every time, no matter how loud I say it, there is nothing but silence.

I rub my hands over my face, while letting out a deep sigh. My nose scrunched up and suddenly I felt like gagging. Oh God! I thought. My hand smell like gasoline and dried blood. Possibly the worst combination. I wiped my dirt caked hands on my jeans, but noticing that wasn't helping. I needed a shower Pronto.  
I stood up and walked over to my duffle. It was filled with various band tees and old flannels that used to belong to my father. I shuffled around inside until I found a pair of mostly clean boxers, and a worn out FooFighters t-shirt. As I made my way to the bathroom I noticed Sammy was  just sitting there. He was staring at nothing while his eyes looked dead. I stood by the bathroom door awkwardly for a moment. "Sam, imma be in the shower." It was about 10 seconds before his head snapped towards me in realization that he's been spoken to. He almost looked embarrassed. "Uh, yeah go ahead." He mumbled. After our long day I could recognize the bags under his lids more clearly. His face was pale and his eyes could hardly stay open. I know that he was afraid to close them. Sudden guilt formed at the pit of my stomach. It was selfish of me to not let him shower first. The faster he was done the faster he could get some rest. "Hey why don't you go ahead. I can wait." I spoke. A look of surprise and suspicion formed in Sam's eyes. "Dean you already have your stuff. Why wait now?" I didn't want to argue with him. Can he please just shut up and see that I'm trying to be nice. So to back up my thoughts I walked over to my bed, threw my stuff down and pointed a figure in his direction. "Sammy, you smell like a horses ass. Now get in the shower you little bitch." At first I was afraid thay I might have gone to far. Maybe he wasnt in the mood for joking. But instead of scowling at me, he chuckled and slightly shook his head. Warmth grew and spreaded through the my heart like a thousand little streams making its way to the ocean. It's been a couple days since I've seen him smile like that. It felt nice. As he walked away I herd him mumble a mocking "jerk".

His shower took him a little longer than normal, but I wasn't complaining. He stepped out of the bathroom with his clothes on and hair wet. And well, he looked more relaxed. So I went a head and grabbed my stuff and headed in. Now I may not seem like it but I'm pretty picky when it comes to hotel bathrooms. Mold and dirt is something I can't handle, it's just nasty. I mean your putting your bare feet on that shit ya know? But also sometimes the water pressure is to low, or way to high to the point you feel like your getting sprayed on my a power pressure hose. With all of these pet peeves of mine it takes me a minuet to adjust everything to my liking. Once I've got it just right, the shower is almost orgasmic. I love the feeling of warmth and comfort you get when letting the water run over your shoulders and legs as it gets cooler the farther down your body it goes. The smell of the soaps that make your body feel nothing but clean. It's almost therapeutic. My favorite part is steeping out of the shower and letting cool air shock your skin.   
I jumped on my bed with a loud groan. Gosh I was fucking tired.  Nothing could make me wanna leave this bed. Sleep was hitting me already. I could feel myself letting go, becoming drowsy. My last thoughts were of Sam and how much I love my brother.

.......................

 The noises were back. Like a whaling noise of a pained man. I tried to pry my sleeping eyes open, break them from the seal that held them together. It was blurry as thy opened and the noise didn't fail to continue. I was so tired, so damn sleepy. I sat up trying to adjust to the darkness of the hotel room. looking over to Sam's bed , he laid there twisting and turning, face cringing and scrunched up. At first I thought of just leaving him there. letting the nightmare pass. I stopped that train of thought. I cant do that to him. I'm his brother I need to be there to protect him at all times. Even when its his mind that's doing the hurting. I untangled the sheets from my legs and slowly crawled out of the small twin bed. Hovering over his restless body I felt a strange sensation of power take over me. In this moment I had complete control. I could let him sit here in fear, or I could wake him from his horror. I shook my head trying to stop my fucked up thinking and reminded my self that I need to do the right thing. I reached a warm hand over to his shoulder and gave him a light shake. His muscles trembling underneath my touch.  "Sam, hey wake up." I roughly whispered in to his ear. There was no response. So I tried again, shaking him a little harder to the point the bed gave. "Sammy wake up." I said in a more normal voice. It was a fast motion of long lashes flying open and gasp of breath. He sat up so fast his forced body almost hit my head. long hair fell into his sweat drawn face. I new at an instance that I made the right call cause the face he was making right now broke my heart.  He drew a shaky hand to wipe down his face, the fear never leaving his eyes. I didn't know what to say, or if I should say anything at all. The things he experienced in that beautiful mind of his was something I would never be able to understand, not even if I asked him. I don't think he would tell me, I don't even think would know where to start.                                                                                          "I-I couldn't..." he began to say. Words quivering and rough. 

"You couldn't what Sam?" I slowly questioned. His face fell. Tears welding in his eyes

"I couldn't save her. I couldn't s-save dad." he began to cry. Save who? Jess?

"Sammy that wasn't your fault," I moved to sit on the bed with him as I held his shoulders.

"It wasn't your fault." I repeated. His broad shoulders shook in my arms as I held him tight.

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I don't know why everyone dies because of me."

"Sam no one dies because of you," I said sternly. "Everything is gonna be okay." I whispered

"I've lost everything Dean. My Girlfriend, my father, my life." His hands were gripping at my shirt. I sat for a moment soaking in everything he said. He feels as though he has nothing left?

I pulled his head under my neck and squeezed his shaking body tighter. "You haven't lost me." I muffled to the top of his head.


	3. The Talk

Its been three days since Sam's break down about Jess and dad. Now that doesn't mean the nightmares have stopped, if anything thing they are getting worse. He just hasn't said much about them, hasn't reacted. Its like he doesn't remember them when he wakes up, which I know  isn't true.

There is this nagging feeling behind my skull that's telling me to say something to him, address the problem. But I can't seem to grow the nerve. But hell is it worrying me. I want the best for Sammy just like he wants the best for me. Lately I've been feeling like a sack of shit cooking on the sidewalk. Its like the world is trying to mentally break us down, who am I kidding of course the world is. We kill motherfucking demons for a living and not only that but I'm kinda an asshole. All these thoughts run through my head like a bullet train at a thousand miles per hour, driving through the happy memories of my life letting them splatter all over the wall with out a care. Its frustrating when all I feel in this body of mine is pain. Pain is not a foreign feeling to us Winchesters. Others may feel happiness like a bright warmth spreading through their bodies, but not us. We feel pain like swallowing a bunch of rusty razor blades. Its excruciating.

I get so fed up with this world and the horrid people that live it, I even get fed up with my self. Like why must I feel everything like a hot pan on my back. I wish I could just be numb, not here maybe. As much as I would love to check out of this sick place I just- just can't. I have a job, a role to play. I need to be here for Sammy. Because I love him so much, he is the only being on this planet that I can stand. Of course I love him and want to protect him but there is this pocket of jealousy that tries to escape sometimes. I cant explain it. maybe its just that I know Sam is a better person than I am. I know that if he wanted to have a wife and kids that they would all love him and never leave. I'm just upset that I wasn't put in this world being capable of doing that, women don't love me, they love my body. I will never have anyone around long enough for me to have kids. And I know that when I die the last thing calling my name will be Hell. To sum it all up what I'm trying to say is that I utterly hate my self.

***

A gust of freezing cold wind reminded me of where I was, thankfully. Right at the moment I was waiting for Sam to return from some old Piggly Wiggly.  As a true American, I refused to go inside. We needed some simple things like water, gum, and of course pie. Sam said that he wasn't gonna get any unless I came inside with him, but I know he was bluffing. He wouldn't do that to me. So here I stood leaning against the Impala, watching the sun go down as the air only seemed to be colder and more windy.  I turned around as i heard a loud bang on the Impala, Sam had jerked the car door open while holding maybe 10 plastic bags. "Dude I thought we were only getting a few things?" I said. Sam stopped his movements and scowled at me while  rolling his eyes. We both hopped inside the car and got seated. "What did you get?" I asked him. he let out a huff as he put the last bag in the back.  As he stretched his long arms over the front seat I saw a small show of tan skin on his stomach from where his shirt was riding up. I told my self not to stare. "We were running low on salt, and for once in our lives I would like to eat some real food." I looked at him not understanding what he meant by real food. "Did you get my-", I was cut of by a harsh, "Yes Dean, I got your pie." I smiled in gratitude that my brother remembered. He always did. I put my key into the ignition letting baby roar as we drove out of this dead cell town in to the next. It was moments like these that I cherish. Small happy times when its just me and my brother on the road.

***

It's been about two hours since our last stop. The sun was at its brightest and hottest, and there were no houses in sight, except for the dirty rest stops. The radio wasn't blasting at its loudest for once and sam was sound asleep in the passenger seat next to me. I bet he's tired. My mind raced it's self back to thinking about Sam's nightmares. It was starting to get irritating now.

I couldn't do anything about it and Sam was a giant ass ball of uncomfortable. This made me think about sam when he was little. When ever he would have a bad dream I would let him sleep in the bed with me. I laughed a loud at that ridiculous thought. Sam? Sleeping with me? Okay, Okay we are adults. More than that we are grown men, who do not sleep with other grown men.

But my mind still thought about how peacefully Sam slept when my arms were tight around his shoulders, and when he would curl his head in to the warm crook of my neck. I sighed and took a glance at Sam who was now awake. Jumping in my seat caused Sam to give me a weird look. Okay so he was awake, so lets talk about this. I reached my hand out to turn the music down Just to make sure there was no interruptions.  I brought my hand back over to the wheel and licked my lips. I was hoping, no, praying that this conversation would not lead to any unnecessary fighting. "Hey Sam lets talk." I said maybe being a little to casual. He gave me one of those 'what is it now' looks.

"Yeah okay, sure." He spoke with cautious words. I kept my eyes on the road.

"So, uh what's up with the nightmares and stuff? I mean how have they been." I waited for his response.

Sam turned his head away  while slouching in the seat. "I don't want to talk about this."

I chuckled. "Nope, that's not an answer Sammy. We are gonna talk about this whether you like it or not."

"Why? Why now? You never cared before." He accused.

"That's not the point Sam. Somethings up with you and you need to tell me. I need to know."

"No you don't Dean. Its none of your business."

"Stop being a little bitch and just tell me what's up."

"You can't make me talk about my problems like a bunch of girls Dean."

"Dammit Sam, I'm not here to talk about them like a bunch of little teenagers, I want to figure out how to fix this! You don't sleep well, you look like shit. Dude, I'm worried about you. And what makes me even more upset is that you get up in the mornings and act like you didn't just have a dream about your dead girl-"

"Don't say it! Just shut up!"  Sam shouted. His hands were clenched and he was staring holes in to his knees. "You don't understand Dean." He said in almost a desperate tone. "When I dream those - those awful things, they are so real. So vivid." His voice has become painful and drenched in regret. "When I wake up, the last thing I want to do is talk about them. I don't want to relive it anymore."

It was like my whole plan flew out the window. So instead of interrogating him I decided to be gentle about the subject. "Okay. We don't have to talk about the nightmares anymore."

"Thank you." He said quietly. Still looking at his knees.

"But we are going to talk about how to fix this." My words were final and I meant what I said. Sam averted his eyes and slightly nodded his head. "Okay." He said with understanding. "Okay."

***

Sam's POV

We were in another hotel room in another state. Just like the rest, this one was tacky and smelt of cigarette smoke and cheap ladies perfume. The sickening sweet kind. I was currently sitting on my bed waiting for Dean to come home from the Rite Aid down the street. So far we've come up with three ideas to help me get rid of these nightmares. One, I can use Melatonin to help me sleep better, which is what dean is picking up this very moment. Two, we will find someone who can spirituality draw these thoughts out of my head, or three. Hit me in the side of the head with a shovel. That last one was my idea. In all honesty I don't even care anymore. I'm just so tired. Physically and mentally. I feel as though I haven't slept in a month. And I feel like I've slowed Dean down. He's been worrying about me non stop for weeks and that bothers me. I don't need him to worry about me. I'm not little anymore, I'm not helpless. At least I think I'm not... I don't even know anymore.

The door slammed open, and dean came striding in with a smirk upon his face.  "I got the good stuff."  he said with a teasing smile. I was to tired to laugh at his already unfunny joke. 

"Dean, its Melatonin. They're all the same." I said in annoyance. I really wasn't in the mood to be playing around. My hopes were already low and I just wanted to get the disappointment over with. He mumbled "Yeah, well screw you to." And tossed the bottle in my direction. My slow reaction caused the bottle to land on the bed. I Picked it up and read the description. It said it was all natural which made me glad. The directions said to take two, and if that's not enough take three. Well, I'm a pretty big dude so I went a head and took four. Plus its not like it can kill me, Its all natural. 

They were berry flavored and kinda chalky which did not suit my taste at all. I laid back on the used hotel bed and listened to dean brush his teeth. He left the water running while doing it which always annoyed me. I smiled at my self thinking about Dean and I when we were kids. Always up each others butts, always playing games and laughing. Even with the death of our mother we were still mostly happy. I think its when we started to get older and see the world for what it really was, was the moment every bit of that happiness washed away. I could remember times when I would cry because Dean would have to leave with dad for a hunt. leaving me to be all alone. I know Dean didn't want to go, but I think part of him searched for the praise from our father, so he did anyways. Those days, even weeks were my worst memories. But every now and then, good memories would form. Like the time Dean and I built a blanket fort in our bedroom. It stayed up for a good week before dad told us we needed to take it down because if something were to happen it would make it difficult for him to get to us. I start to realize that I don't have many good memories involving my father. I guess it was understandable since he was the one who caused most of the chaos. This takes me forward in time to when I told him I was going to college. Our fight ruined the foundation of our relationship. It was lost for a long time. And during that time I really thought I hated the man. But as I've grown, I've realized that we were both scared. I was afraid of living that life, that I would become someone I hated. And dad was afraid that me leaving him meant he couldn't protect me anymore. 

I was starting to feel drowsy, my eyelids were getting heavy. I decided to take of my pants and shirt and get into the bed while I could. where is Dean? Is he still in the bathroom? I was to tired to care. The sheets felt warm around me and all I wanted to do for the longest time was sleep, I had a little sliver of hope that I might be able to.

***

I felt hot all over. More than hot, like I was burning. My skin was peeling off from my bones. It-It hurts so much and I want it to stop but I know I deserve it.  I do, I do. I deserve to die. Have my insides ripped out. I should be dead, Dead just like- "NO!" I screamed to no one.

My heart was beating inside my chest to the point it hurt and my body was wet with sweat. That dream was different than the rest of them. That was more than just Jessica and dad. That was something else. I looked over at the other bed to see Dean slouched and staring at me. It was dark but I could slightly make out his face.  "Sam..." He said with his sleep rough voice. He moved from his bed a slowly walked over to me. No, no please don't come over here. don't look at me like this. I was ashamed, embarrassed. "Dean... just go back to bed. I'm fine." I whispered while staring at the horrid bedspread. I tried to get settled in the sheets again, but a weight on my bed startled me. "What are you-" 

"Move over." Dean said sternly. What? Why? Then his actions finally made sense. 

"I-I no, I'm not sleeping with you." I protested. This was crazy. I'm not eight anymore. If anything this is super insulting.

"Don't be fucking difficult Sam, just move over and let me in." He demanded. This was not gonna happen. "No. I will not. This is stupid Dean." I pulled the sheets back over my shoulders to finalize my decision. Sleeping with my older  brother because of a bad dream was low. I just couldn't do it. Dean placed his hand on my shoulder. his grip wasn't hard or threatening. It was soft.

"Sam, please. Trust me." Those words made me freeze. Trust him? My brother who has been by side since the dawn of time wants me to trust him. Just like I always do. This was hard for me to except, in fact, I was gonna push this so far back in my head that I wont be able to find it for the next 50 years. If I live that long. I untangled the sheets from my legs and scooted over to the very edge of the twin mattress. The weight in the bed dipped lower and the springs screeched as they were already at there limit with me. Because we were so close I could here dean whisper to him self, "This is so awkward." I frowned even though he couldn't see it. He needs to shut up before I push him off the bed because this was his bright idea. 

Now we were back to back. It made it easier that way. He was warm and I could feel him move every time he breathed. This was crossing so many lines right now, but I couldn't find my self to say anything. Because whatever Dean is doing, theres a reason for it.

"Goodnight Sammy." Dean whispered.

"Yeah, Night." I said.


	4. Self love

My breathing was so calm and slow that I might as well have been dead. Not to mention my bones felt like mush. It was a strange feeling to what I usually feel when I wake up from sleep, and its never in the morning when I wake, always in the middle of the night. So that lets me know something was different about last night, but what? My mind trained back to all of the events from the night before. I remember Dean bringing me the Melatonin and me falling a sleep. Did it really work? There's no way. 

And I was right. A sudden realization hit me that I did not go to sleep alone last night. That there was a warm body pressed up right against mine and that helped me fall in to slumber. Dean's breath hit the back of my neck as he laid there still as can be. For some reason having him so close to me made my heart rate jump. The covers that were once warm started to feel hot and uncomfortable. I slid the sheets off of my body and shimmied my way around in the small bed with two grow men laying in them. Once I was fully turned around I gasped at how close Dean was. His face was only a few inches away from mine and his shallow breaths were hitting my cheeks. I caught the curve of his pink lips and the length of his lashes. Observing my brother finally led me to understand why he was such a lady killer. Something that I didn't notice be for was his littering amount of freckles that scattered across his pink cheeks. It was wrong to point out these things but I couldn't help it. I began to see how strange this was, and what one might think if they saw us laying in this to small bed together, with our faces so close. 

I got up and quickly put my pants on. I needed a breath of fresh air. The room felt smaller than normal, so I made my way to the hotel door. The minuet I opened the door the bright humid air caressed my skin. Gosh what a night. The fact that Dean spooning me was what helped me sleep made my stomach turn, It was sickening and just wrong. It's as if we've gone back in time to when I was eight, back to those nights where I was scared that there was monster under my bed. Dean would hold me and tell me that nothing was there, but he was wrong. Except now there is a monster under my bed. A terrifying one called Self hatred.

I sat leaning on the railing while watching all the cars drive in and out of the hotel parking lot. My body felt rested after so many months of constantly feeling like something was pinning me by my joints. It was a new but nice feeling to have. But surely it wont last long. I can't sleep with dean for the rest of my life, or ever again. This was a one time thing that will stay in the past and I can only hope Dean feels the same. A moment after all my thinking I could hear muffled talking from inside the room. Who was Dean talking to? I hesitated before I walked in to the room, but I went ahead and barged in. He was sitting on his bed with the telephone to his ear as he had a serious expression written on his face. What's going on, maybe another case.

"Yeah, okay what time?" He asked the mystery man. I just stood there awkwardly in front of the door as I watched a conversation unfold. "Yes. I can." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Alright, thank you Donna. We'll be there." He hung up the phone. So it was a women?

"Who was that? Is it another case?" I asked coming over to sit on the bed opposite of him. He scratched his head and pondered for a moment. There something he's not telling me.

"Dean, what's going on?" I asked out of aggravation. This day was already starting out bad. Secrets weren't really something me and Dean had between each other. There was no need for them, we were a open book.

"Its uh, its not a case. That was Donna, she's a specialist that's gonna help your nightmares." He spoke with uncertainty. His eyes kept avoiding mine. I really, wasn't expecting that. A specialist? He's gotta be kidding me.

"So your just gonna believe this lady? No back ground checks or-or research or anything?" I wasn't buying it. This plan was dumb and it would end badly, I knew for sure it would. If anything I was kind of mad that he would go ahead and call that lady without talking with me first. After all I'm the fucked up one.

"Calm the hell down Sam, Bobby suggested her. She's an old friend, but she said she can fix this pent up guilt shit your going through." He spoke while shrugging his jeans on. Pent up guilt? Is that what he thinks it is? Hell I don't even know, but guilt. . . doesn't go deep enough.

For some reason I was angry, no, I was pissed to oblivion. I didn't understand why I couldn't just be normal. I didn't understand why I couldn't just sleep one night alone and not wake up hating my self. This was so frustrating, and to add the icing to the cake, Dean was running around trying to fix my problems for me. I'm tired of being treated like a little kid, I'm grown and capable and I don't need his help with some petty nightmares! 

"You know what Dean, your not helping and you just need to drop this." I spat. My heart rate was up for some unknown reason, and I could feel my self getting hot all over. Deans body froze as he was digging around in his duffle. "Excuse me?" He commented.

"You want me to just drop it? Sam this is serious!" He fussed.

"I never said it wasn't! I'm just tired of you worrying about me. I can handle my self." He looked at me with this face that screamed annoyed.

"Well obviously you can't since this is still a problem we have yet to fix. I worry about you because I love you Sam. You are my brother and I'm gonna help you no matter what so stop acting like a brat and be grateful that I even fucking care. Cause I'll tell you what, if this was anyone else, they would have dropped you and all your petty bullshit by now. Grow the fuck up."

I opened my mouth ready to fight some more but he cut me off. "Fucking say something else and I will hop in the impala and leave your ass." I clamped my jaw shut and huffed out of rage. My teeth were grinding together, and I almost wanted to hit something, someone. I don't know why he felt like he could tell me what to do. He's always been like that, calling the shots. 

 "Stop pouting and get ready. Were leaving in ten." I rolled my eyes at his command. I went ahead and brushed my teeth, took a shower that was way to hot, and struggled to find some clothing that didn't smell like death. Just my luck I found a pair of light blue jeans that I didn't recognize. They were about my size, long enough to were they didn't ride up the ankle. But they weren't mine. "Hey dean, did you accidently put your pants in my duffle?" I asked still examining the jeans. I could sense his body tensing. When I looked up at him he was lacing his boots with a small pink on his freckled cheeks. "I-no. Those aren't mine." He was quick to say. Dean wasn't good at lying to me, I could tell by the way he wasn't cracking some stupid joke about this right now. "Are you sure?" I asked again.

"Yes I'm sure. Pants like that would only fit a giant like you." And there it is. It still was a little fishy, but ya know what, I don't care at the moment. I Put the jeans on and slightly smiled at how well they fit. I know they weren't mine but Dean wasn't fessing up. They hugged me in the right places and were a good length to. I was pleased that life had granted me an extra pair of fitting jeans so I didn't have to keep wearing the same baggy dark blue ones that were covered with holes and stains. I continued getting ready while Dean finished packing his duffle. I Kept feeling like a pair of eyes were on me though. Every time I would look back Dean would be staring intensely at some other thing. It was almost disappointing when I would turn around and notice that his attention wasn't on me, or these new nice fitting jeans. What am I thinking? That's not a normal thought to have about your brother. I quickly busied my self with some other activity until we left. This morning was introducing some new untouched territories that I was gonna have to cross sooner or later.

***

It was dark outside with the moon making a small glow on our surroundings. The music was off, which has been that way a lot lately. Dean was driving as always and I was leaning my head against the window letting the vibrations of the car tickle my skull. I was a little nervous about meeting this Donna lady. It wasn't that I didn't trust Bobby and his friends, it was just that I had a gut feeling that this specialist wasn't gonna fix my problems for me. I mean hell, we have been at this problem for months now and we've got nothing, other than the fact that my brothers sleeping body next to mine helps me get some shut eye. As I've said before, that wasn't gonna keep happening for the sake of me getting sleep. All the things that we have been willing to do is so extra. I feel as if I don't really care anymore. So what if I don't sleep ever again? Who cares if I have constant nightmares about my dead girlfriend and my father? I have survived worst, I think? I mean this is pretty different compared to killing demons and getting a couple cuts on the way. This  effects everything I do. The way I walk, talk, and work. If I can't sleep then there is no saving the world and killing monsters, there is no more Sam and Dean Winchester. There is no more me.

That last thought made my eyes widen and my heart stop. I have been so blind for so long. Dean was right, I needed to grow the hell up. I've been so mad about having help that I couldn't see the domino effect of my nightmares. This was more than what it looked like. I had a serious problem. I sat up straight in the car and combed my hand through my hair. All this thinking has made me awake and now I can see Dean staring at me.

"What?" I asked in an innocent way. He just pursed his lips together and shook his head. Lately I've began to feel self conscious, even around Dean. He looks at my face a lot like there's something wrong with me, which there is, but like I'm a freak. It makes me feel as though I don't fit in anymore, like I'm a monster. But his eyes just seem to linger a little bit more than normal and its starting to itch. "Well if your not gonna answer keep your damn eyes to your self." I said in a nasty tone. His eyes widened has they started darting between me and the road.

"Woah." He said in an offended tone. "What stick crawled up your ass?" He mocked. Today was just a bad day for me. A lot was going on, and a lot was changing, and for some reason he was handling it better than I was. I didn't care to be nice anymore. "You keep fucking looking at me like I'm some freak, and when I ask what the hell your so interested in you don't have anything to say. Its annoying." I spat at him. Not even sparing him a glance. He was silent for a moment. I wouldn't know what his facial expression was, because I refused to look at his handsome face. It was obvious that he was at his wits ends as well. Maybe I was searching for an argument, a fight. But I knew he would never give it to me. But then again I've been wrong before. 

"I was just checking on you, you dick. Is that a crime?" He asked in a sarcastic tone. I just turned my head in the other direction, I was done talking with him. "Whatever." I mumbled.

He opened his mouth again, because he didn't know how to shut up. "You know, when you were little you were afraid of everything." He said while smiling. If he was gonna start insulting me, I was going to freak. "You would follow me around like a little duckling. If I was in the living room reading, you were there with me. If I was out working on the car, you were right by my side. Even when we slept," When he brought that up my heart started to race. It made me think about last night and how much I needed that rest and how willing Dean was to help me. "You would be there. I never thought it was annoying, or weird. It was cute." He spoke with meaningful words. Why was he talking about this?

"And suddenly one day you decided that you didn't need me anymore. You slowly started to make your own choices and stopped being scared of everything. And you know that had to have made dad happy, his little boy growing up to be a strong independent man. We all thought that meant you were finally gonna except that you were a hunter, but then you left for Stanford." I bit my lip thinking about Stanford and how I almost had a normal life. "It killed me." He said in a monotone voice. I finally looked over at him to see that his smile had faded away to a sad blank face. His eyes looked distant and cloudy.

"I thought that I would never see you again. You just kinda disappeared on me." He said with a sad chuckle. He let out a deep sigh. "What I'm trying to say here Sammy, is that I need you more than you think. You are all that I got." I was staring at him with a sad expression. I didn't understand why he was telling me all of this. Why would he drop all of his painful memories on my shoulders? "I don't understand Dean." I commented in a quiet voice. He licked his lips and I tried my hardest not to stare, not to picture how soft they are. 

"Sam I need you to be 100% with me, physically and mentally. Okay? I need you here. I need you to understand how important getting you better is. This isn't just for you, this Is for me as well. I know that's selfish but you know what? I took care of you more than dad ever did so I think I deserve it. You have to get better for me Sammy, you have to. Or I don't know what I'll do with my self." He begged with a desperate voice. I've never seen my brother like this before, never seen him so broken. I never looked at our relationship like that. I never knew that he needed me. it always seemed like I needed him. Or maybe its that we need each other.

"I love you." Dean spoke. His voice was serious and strong like he wanted me to know that he meant it. The only way  I knew to respond was say, "I love you too."


	5. No Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you gust like this chapter. Sorry for the wait. There will probably be some Grammer mistakes, but just ignore it and don't forget to leave comments and kudos! (>3<)

Deans POV

This Donna ladies address was strange, it was in a suburban neighborhood that was filled with hybrid cars and perfectly manicured grass, except for Donna. Her house was an eyesore that had dead grass patches that covered most of the yard and a broken bird bath that had pealed of its paint. She didn't keep up with her roof like the rest of her neighbors, as there were shingles missing. But at the same time it gave the house character to see something that wasn't made for a perfect American family, it was real. I parked the impala next to her rusty mail box that had the numbers, 3060. Sam was weirdly quiet when we arrived. He didn't talk much after our argument in the car from last night. My fear but also my hope was that my words got to him. Sometimes he can be a serious brat and not even know he's doing it.

I pulled the keys out of the ignition and looked over at him. He was looking out of the window with a unsure expression written all over his face. He was nervous. My hand reached out to pat him on the shoulder. "Cheer up Sammy. I drove all the way here so your gonna put a smile on that pretty little face of yours, and be polite." I spoke with a smirk on my lips. The only response I got was a annoyed glare from hazel eyes. We held eye contact for a while. Underneath his angry composure, I could see the fear and uncertainty in his stare

I knew this was a risk. Not saying that I didn't trust Bobby and his choice of friends, The guy never let us down before, not in a million years. I just don't get this shit. But what was I gonna do. Sit here and wait for Sam to be fixed? I think not. 

We stood at the door for a still moment, neither of us wanted to knock, or admit that we were both uneasy about this whole thing. Sam let out a rough breath and stood tall, raising his posture. Seeing him stand at his full height, made my knees feel weak. His 6'4 self could scare any monster or man on this planet, but for some reason he always seems to lay low, as if he doesn't want to stand out. I'm so used to him being my little brother. Not a giant manly man.

Reaching his large hand out, he hesitated at the door before he knocked his knuckles across the wood several times. Both of our breathing stopped as we awaited the magical being that was gonna fix my brother for good.  My heart rate was through the roof and I don't have any understanding why! Meeting this stranger wasn't even about me, but here I stand, acting like a child who is about to confront his mother after doing something wrong. And plus I've already talked to the women!

The sound of steps were leading to the door, the locks from the inside were making noise of metal clinking together. I looked to my right to see Sam take in a deep breath. The next thing I know the door opens with a gust of wind hitting my face, and blowing Sam's hair. The women standing from the inside of that house looked meaner than most people. Her eyes were a sad grey and her hair did the same thing as it draped down her boney shoulders. But the thing that put me off the most was her, tacky, off season, Christmas earing's of two decorated trees. 

"Dean." She rasped in a deep voice of someone who has smoked for 40 years. My eyes had a hard time choosing which silver iris they wanted to look at. "Yes." I spoke, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm Dean, and I already told you about my brother Sam." I finished. She continued to stare, and then shifted her old eyes over to Sam. I could see his body tense once he knew the women was looking at him. "Right," She dragged out. "come in." And that we did.

Her house looked a lot like Bobby's. It was covered with possible useless shit that took up every corner in every room. Hundreds of books covered with a thick layer of dust. She lead us to a small living room that consisted of a love seat and a large, worn out Lazyboy. I took my seat first, allowing Sam to sit down next to me. The small half couch that we shared was a little snug, which caused our knees to touch. I realized my thoughts and took a minute to ask why I was so sensitive today. This last week has been stressful in the sense that my brother has been acting like a little brat. But at the same time I understood his feelings. I couldn't be to mad because at one point in time I felt the same. I know that hovering cloud of self hatred, and belief of being a monster. But there has been some questionable things as well. The hyper noticeable way I seem to see every curve, and color of my brothers being. It was suffocating.

Donna came back, taking a shaky seat in her over sized chair that ate her whole. She didn't fail to stare until we were uncomfortable, wiggling in our seat. She stuck her tongue out to lick her dry, wrinkled lips. I cringed, while wishing I had looked away so I didn't have to see that.

"So, Sam." She spoke. Sam's head immediately shot up when hearing his name come out of her mouth. "Y-yes ma'm?" He said politely. Little Sammy being sweet.

"Your broth'a here tells me you got some nightmares?" She asked in a questioning tone. She hasn't changed her expression once since she opened her door.

"I... I do. Yes." He mumbled, hanging his head in shame. She hummed. 

"How long has this been going on." She questioned. Sam stuttered for a moment.

"About half a year now. They have been getting worse." He confessed. She reached her shaking hand over to the coffee table that separated us. She grasped a mug full of some unknown liquid. She took a couple sips before setting the mug back down in its place.

The ancient lady nodded her head once, processing what Sam had just said. "What do you see?" She asked. Sam's body once again tensed at the permission to enter untouched territory. I know he was sensitive about the nightmares, he didn't like to talk about them. I couldn't even breach his mind to see what the hell goes on in there, but some part of me feels as though it has an idea.

"What do I... see?" He asked cautiously. 

"Did I stutter?" She said with again, no expression. "What. Do. You. See." She spoke slowly. I could see the irritation grow in Sam's eyes and the little bit of pink rise to his cheeks.

"I Don't know." He muttered while putting his defenses up. Bad move Sammy, i thought to myself. Sam has always been a little off stand-ish when it came to talking with strangers, and who knows mayne it has sometjing to do with me. Donna leaned forward to stand up. Both of our eyes followed her movement, unsure of what was going on. 

"Then there is nothing I can do for you." She spat with honesty. My eyes grew wide. Are you fucking kidding me right now? I drove all the way here for Sam to start being a shy pussy, and for this dick stick of a lady to tell us there's nothing she can do? Nuh Uh. Not happening.

"Hold up. What the hell did you just say?" I growled. My blood was fucking boiling. Sam tried to protest in the background. "Dean, please-" I shut him down immediately.

"No. That's not happening. That's fucked up you old hag!" Donna didn't seemed phased by my words at all. Her face stayed a old saggy mess which only made me more pissed. "Your gonna fix my brother. I'm not walking out until he is sleeping like a little baby."

She stared at me and  I swear I could see her eyebrows quiver. "Now, listen to me. I can't do shit about your brother if he doesn't open up to me. I don't read minds Mr. Winchester, I take them apart. You must have been misled about what I do. I can not help you. I don't have the time to be playing these games. There are plenty more people who actually want my help." She finished with strong words. I couldn't believe this bitch. This fucking plan was a failure, and boy was Bobby getting a lovely phone call later.

Just as I was about to stand up and leave, Sam grabbed my arm. His eyes barring holes in to mine. His look was desperate. "Sit down, please." He asked me. In most situations I would spit in the face of people who try and hold me back, or tell me what to do. But this was Sam asking me to do this for him. I roughly sat back down on the love seat with a growl and crossed my arms. I refused to look at that leather handbag, she could suck my-

"Donna, I'm sorry." Sam apologized. "I don't like to talk about them, but your right. You can't help me unless I speak up." The lady slowly sat back down, not breaking eye contact with Sam. the cushion underneath her huffed out a puff of air as her weight hit the seat. So here we were again. Back to square one. The room was silent for a moment. For no one wanted to speak.

"You asked me what I see in my dreams," He began. Donna nodded her head yes. "Its not really what I see, Its more like what I feel and hear." She sat up in her chair a little bit, eyes looking interested. "I don't see anything, which I guess for most people is a good thing, but it is actually more scary."

"You said you feel? Explain." She requested.

"Its like I'm burning," My eyes shot to Sam. "Its hot, suffocating. And I always feel like my hearts gonna  jump out my chest." He explained. I never knew this. I mean of course I didn't, but I guess the right word is that I didn't expect this. She pulled her notebook and pen from her coffee table and began to write down what looked like scribbles. 

"And the hearing?" She asked. That's when Sam shrunk down. His long fingers were picking at his pants, his new pants. 

"I...Its my girlfriend... and my dad." He confessed in a small voice. My heart leaped to my throat. It all made sense now. That night his nightmare was really bad and he started crying some crap about jess and dad, it all clicked in to place. Trying to comfort him, I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. 

"Have you seen them recently?" Donna asked. I could see, no, feel the pain that shoot through Sam's body. "No, no they've passed."

Donna looked up from the notes she was scribbling to look at Sam, and then me. She looked as though she wanted to say something to us, more so to me. "Sam, what do they tell you?" She asked. Sam looked nervous and his mouth gaped. No one tells you how hard life will be, and when you have problems, how difficult it is to talk to people about them. Sam's reaction to this was normal, hell he was handling it better than most, especially me.

"They tell me it was my fault." He whispered. I couldn't bare to look at him. It would hurt me to much. The fact that Sam was dreaming about them in the first place got to me, but now they were playing the blame game? "And that I should die." I bit my lip trying not to react. Him telling us this made the air in the room stiff with tension. The taste of metal in my mouth distracted me for a minute.

"You have repression issues from your lack of communication, and possible PTSD from your past experiences. It is very common for young men your age who suffer from losing loved ones or going through traumatic change." Donna said with no doubt.

"Well thanks for sugar coating it Donna." I said sarcastically. This lady could really be a pain in the ass.

"You're welcome." She responded with a blank face, not at all acknowledging her rude manner. I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic as well. She crossed her old leg over the other and laid the notepad back down on the table. "Alright Sam, how about I look around in that little head of yours."

***

Sam's POV

The crappy couch was way to small for my long legs. She told me to lay on my back, and to breathe through my nose and out my mouth so that's what I did. I felt a weight lifted after telling them about my nightmares, like I have been lying to Dean or something. Which I haven't, but still It's Dean were talking about. Even though I know his gaze was judging me with out even trying. His normal green eyes looked scarred, as if he had walked in on our grandmother naked. It was almost to hard to continue, breaking down in front of a stranger, and my brother who I admire. It was upsetting to show him this side of me that's wasn't so strong. The thought of him thinking I'm weak makes me shake, in a way I don't really understand. 

Our relationship has been developing the last few weeks, and I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm so hyper aware of everything that makes Dean. His smile, the way he drives, his eyes. Even the simple task of calling me Sammy gets this boil going in my stomach. Like I said, I'm not sure what to make of it, but hell is it scaring me. All I know is that I feel like a 5th grader with a dumb crush. I hate it, so much. Because I think I know what this is. Deep down in my heart I do know, but I just don't want to admit it, or more like I can't.  
He is my brother. We are related. Having the thoughts I have had are all kinds of wrong. But I have faith that maybe this will go away. Maybe its just a phase, and I will move on to some other person who gives me butterflies and makes my knees weak.

Donna came walking  over with a cup of tea that had a very present smell in the room. It was a mix of acid and what seems like a very strong alcohol. The smell its self could knock you out, or burn all the hairs out of your nose. Each step she took made me nervous for the fear that she would spill that lethal liquid.

"Damn Donna, its only noon. Drinking already?" Dean said with a sly grin on his face. I had the urge to laugh, because in reality it was pretty funny. She didn't respond right away, only sat the cup on the small table beside me.

"Oh, this isn't for me." She said with a unreadable tone. Deans eyebrows frowned and his lips pursed. "You better drink up boy, its got quite the aftertaste." And the room went silent.

"Wait, im drinking that?" I squeaked. My voice sounded much higher than I wanted it to but I couldn't keep the surprise out of my words. I've had a fare share of nasty things in my mouth, and wow did that sound wrong. Blood, spit, the worlds cheapest alcohol, you name it.  But whatever was in that cup would surely kill me, maybe even seep through my stomach walls and fall out of my ass. 

"You need to drink it if you want me to be able to see any of that big head of yours." She explained. So Kinda like dream root?

"Okay Nanny McPhee, listen. Sam is not gonna drink your stinkin juice okay? Unlike me, Sam's tolerance it pretty low." Dean was right by my side, his large callused hand on my shoulder for what seems to be the third time today. I couldn't help but smile a little. Even if I was a complete monster he would still be here to protect me.

Donna actually made a human reaction which happened to be a long sigh. Her nerves were rattled, she just wasn't showing it. "You two just have to make everything so difficult don't you?" She fussed. She shakenly scooted the cup closer to me. "Trust me, if I wanted to kill you it would have been with a shot gun, not this, now drink." 

Dean and I just looked at each other. I could see that he was unsure. The green in his eyes looked a little bit more unsettled than normal, like the trees in a bad rainstorm. But I have to remember that this is Bobby's pal and if anything happened to me, Donna would be next on his kill list. Without even saying anything, I grabbed the cup and brought it to my lips.

"Holy shit." I muffled as I took a break to catch my breath. And holy shit was right, the fumes coming from that cup were so strong I could hardly bring it near my face. Tears were instantly brought to my eyes. "Sammy, you don't have to drink that shit if its to much." His eyes were glaring daggers at Donnas head as he tried to give me a option.

"No, I need to do this Dean." And so I did. I Tipped my head back as far as my neck would let me, I held my nose and pulled the glass to my lips. Gulp after gulp, and god did it burn. Every taste bud in my mouth was on fire like they were sizzling off as I finished the liquid. I slammed the glass down on the table and pinched the bridge of my nose trying not to throw up. 

Dean was rubbing my back in small comforting circles that some what made me feel better, only a little. But the motion did distract me from the burning sensation in the back of my throat. It made me think about how touchy he has been today, and how loving and supportive. Im not saying he's none of those things normally, he's just not as- intense. I sank in to the warmth of his hand, but then suddenly became conscious of the old lady sitting across from us, and what she might think right now. Probably that we are just normal loving brothers comforting each other, but she would be wrong because there is so much more than you would think.

"You good?" Dean asked, his voice sounded much deeper than normal, almost demonic. "W-what?" My own voice sounded muffled.  I was so confused, the world was blurry and warm, but a comfortable warmth. I couldn't focus on one thing, but instead everything all at once like a kid with a case of ADHD. My heavy heart was slow but loud, almost louder than the voices around me. It would beat in a pattern that was so calming. I could hear this thudding sound near my head which I could only guess was Dean yelling at Donna. His blurry form was moving closer to me, and his rough hands held my arm in a sweet embrace, like a mother would her child, but more intimate. And for one small, tiny second I thought that Dean was gonna lean in and possibly- until the world went black.

***

Dean's POV

"What's wrong with him!? What did you do?!" I yelled. Just three minutes ago Sam was sitting there trying to get over the horrid drink he just digested, and the next thing I know he's falling over sideways and passing out. His limp body is still unmoving and panic rises in my chest. "Dammit lady, what the hell was in that drink?"

Donna rolled her soulless eyes at me. Really, this lady couldn't be a bigger bitch. "He's fine. That was meant to happen. The dream root allows him to enter his own mind, which will allow me to travel there with him." Wait, what?

"I thought that he needed to drink that crap so you could see through his void or whatever." I wasn't born yesterday, I remember what the hag said. "Right, Donna?"

"Eh, maybe I lied." She said with the worlds smallest smirk on her lips. You've got to be shiting me. She just lied to our faces and we believed her. Its times like these where I wish I was a bad person so I could kill that asshole with my two bare hands.

"Don't look at me like that kid, its not like your a saint either." Excuse me? I know I ain't no saint, in fact im the farthest thing from one, But to hell if im gonna sit here and let a walking vegetable tell me about my self, that saggy ass bitch.

"What is that supposed to mean? I Haven't done shit to you!" I smacked my hand on the couch, long forgetting that Sam was laying there. Continuing this fight was a waste of time, and I knew that. I also knew that I would never see this lady again, but right now I couldn't seem to find the nerve to care. I was so sick and tired of being accused. And dammit man, all I wanted was to fix my brother. Is that to much to ask for? Even if God knows im asking for more. 

"Yeah, your so pure while you make googly eyes at your sibling." She spat, her wrinkly lips forming a thin line. "You act like I cant see it son."

My breath caught in my throat. It was like the whole room went silent or something because all I could hear was the rapid pace of my heart beat. I wanted to say something back to her, like maybe an insult or deny her assumption, but my mouth wouldn't open. I froze. Dean Winchester the man who is always so sure of him self froze, because for the first time in his life, there was somebody who was able to see through his bullshit.

My eyes darted away. Every instinct in my body was telling me to run out that front door, And to leave Sam here, because everybody and their mother knew he was better off without me. And why would I want to run away? Because im weak. My no-good brain couldn't handle the truth that I've have been denying for months now. That I don't just love Sam, I am in love with Sam.

"Shut up, you don't know anything." I said at length. I surprised my self when I spoke. In all honesty I thought that I would be frozen for the rest of my life, only now I cant look the witch in the eyes. I know whatever way she was looking at me right now was full of scrutinizing judgment. And that she was probably so disgusted she could spit. 

"Honey, I wouldn't waste all your braincells on this. Its not worth it." I brushed my hand through my hair, and gripped it tight trying to find some thought, just something that might back me up, but as always my brain fails.

I didn't realize that I was now standing from my chair and getting closer to her face. "You listen to me. I will not talk to you about this, and I refuse to sit here and listen to your old mouth sputter shit, ya hear me? I came here with one thing I needed you to do, and one thing only. And that was to fix my fucking brother you worthless piece of shit. Now I didn't ask for YOUR DAMN OPINION!"

*Slap*

The sound of a hand hitting soft flesh echoed in the room. "You listen here you hairless ape. You have given me shit all damn day, and i'm about tired of it. What is your problem boy? Did you talk to your mother that way in her own house?" Donna nodded in head in disbelief as her long gray hair swayed back and forth. "You can shut the hell up, cause im doing your sorry of a brother a big favor. How about you be grateful!" She Hollard.  "If you wouldn't mind Mr. Winchester, I would like you to wait out side while I help your brother." She insisted. I Just held my cheek with my palm, trying to keep the swelling down, and not only that but also the angry tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes any second. Something had come over me that I didn't understand, some primal feeling that I have never encountered. I went to look at Sam who was laying peacefully on the small couch. His small breaths and soundless snores brought a warmth to my soul. At the same time the fact that this argument had just happened in front of him made me want to go lay down and cry. Because he was right there, right there. And he herd none of it.

"Fine." I growled. I growled even more because she would not stop fucking staring at me. I furiously stomped my way out of her house, kicking an old pile of books over in the process. I Have just been slapped in the face by an a million year old woman, who wasn't even my fucking grandmother!

As I strutted my way down her porch I stopped in the middle of her yard. Part of me was so desperate to go back inside and make sure Sam was alright, but the stubborn side of me was to pissed off at her nonchalant face. Suddenly this barreling roar came from with in my chest. I couldn't help the scream that ripped from my throat. I just let it all out at once, the screeching noise echoing through the suburban neighborhood. I felt as though with each second that passed, there was a release of anger. I yelled until there was no more air in my lungs to support my screams, and I would be happy if some of her 'neighbors' thought differently about the crazy lady with screaming men in her yard next door. In the process of my tantrum, I hadn't noticed that I have fallen to the ground, knees becoming wet with mud. 

I took a minute to breath and catch my breath. My face felt incredibly hot and I was sure that I was about to pass out. I stood up, wiping the mud off my jeans, and walked over to the impala and sat my self inside.

Breathing in the old smell of her leather, and the sound of her carpet underneath my boots relaxed me, and made me feel at peace with my self. Out of everything in life, Baby has always been by my side, never let me down. She has been my rock. For instance, days like today I have Baby to go to when there is no body else.

 What had just happened in there? Did I finally break? There were so many questions that I wanted to answer, but I didn't know where to start. Honestly I don't know if I could have avoided that slap to the face, because the words that were coming out of my mouth didn't seem like they wanted to stop. I let out a deep breath and tried to slow down my breathing, I didn't want to do this, not now. But my body just couldn't handle this anymore, the repression, the hiding away every feeling I've ever had. I slowly bent my head down on my stirring wheel and let the first sob come. Now that the anger was gone, I was just one step closer to my real pain.

I wish Sammy were here, I wish he could hold me like I know he would, and that I wouldn't have to worry. Tears slipped from my clenched eyes and more unrecognizable noises fell from my lips. I've tried so hard to be the bigger person for the longest time and I think im finally fed up. Im ready to let go, to feel. I don't wanna put on a mask anymore. More and more tears rolled down my already wet cheeks, and more and more sobs broke from my throat. In this fucked up life, I just wanted a way out.


End file.
